His eyes dark and his mouth clamped in a snarl, Tommy clamped a hand over my father’s throat and dragged him into the living room.

Without stopping, his threw him through the window and out into the front yard.

I was a mess of tears and terror, snot bubbling from my nose as Tommy turned back to my mother and I.

Now, he was smiling.

He went to my stunned mother and hauled her up, “You’re going to need to see this,” he said darkly, his lips curled in a grin. He looked at me and jerked his head towards the door, “Come on Spence, you too.”

He pulled my mother to the front door and pushed her outside. I hadn’t moved, my face frozen in a silent scream. Tommy looked over his shoulder and winked at me, “Don’t make me ask again, sport. Oh, and bring that broom behind you.”

Pulled off my chair by fear, I got up and dutifully grabbed the kitchen broom and walked it to Tommy, my pants reeking of urine. Tommy put a hand on my shoulder and guided me outside to stand by our mailbox. I saw my father rolling in the grass, a mess of blood and glass, my mother kneeling before him, weeping.

Our neighbors were coming out of their houses, eyes wide, shocked looks of horror on their faces as they saw Tommy.

“Gather round!” He yelled, motioning for them to come closer. “Look at what you’ve done!”